Her eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth as she laughs.
"No way."
"I don't know if there's any truth to it." I shrug. "Where's Addie?" I ask, only now realizing she didn't come home with Jade.
"She had me take her car. She's headed to a party and said she'd Uber home."
"She do that a lot?"
Jade eyes me warily and stands to her full height, which with the heeled shit-kicker boots she's wearing, must be close to six feet. If I stood up right now and pressed my body to hers, I bet we would align perfectly. I could push her against the wall, or hell, she could push me.
"When did he zonk out?"
I shift in the recliner and grab my phone from the table to check the time, careful to hide the screen from her. She doesn't need to know I was stalking her…again. Or rather, attempting to.
"About an hour ago?"
Her rough exterior smooths as she takes his glasses off and carefully places them in the zippered pocket in his bag. She slings the bag over her shoulder and takes a deep breath before sliding her arms beneath his sleeping body.
"Thank you," she whispers through tight lips as if it pains her.
"I'm sorry," I say, using the power lift to help me stand. "That I can't help you do that, I mean."
"It's my life," she says, lifting him and walking out of the room. The front door closes before I'm able to get my crutches beneath me. She spoke to me without picking on me, without yelling at me. It was a legitimate conversation, and I made her laugh. Okay, really, it was Kevin who made her laugh. Totally true, by the way, a friend from high school told me last week about Kevin's ex-wife, who is now his stepmom, being pregnant with his half-brother. Sounds crazy, but no one could make that shit up.
That's beside the point, though. We spoke. Had an actual conversation. Baby steps or not, I need to cool it. I don't want to add worrying about Addie strangling me in my sleep when she finds out I have the hots for her best friend to my list.
Or do I?
Chapter eight
Jade
Mateo's brand new SUV is parked in the driveway when Coop and I pull in.
I'm nervous.
There, I admit it.
He made me laugh.
Coop and I grab the bags of Chinese food out of the backseat and make our way into the house. Addie paid for the food and likely will refuse to let me pay her back. There's more food than normal, though. Does that mean Mateo's joining us? Lately it seems like he's all my son talks about, and I'm still not sure how I feel about all the time he's spending with him.
"Where are your parents tonight?" I ask Addie as Coop and I put the bags of food on the island.
"Some charity thing," she says. She gets a few plates out of the cabinet and stacks them in front of her. Addie and I grew up vastly different, and it's in these small moments I see it the most.Paper plates aren't a thing in this house. After my dad left, I don't have a single memory of eating off a glass plate at home, even on holidays. Not that holidays felt different from any other day of the year.
Addie points at Coop. "Get forks, dude."
"Where's Mateo?" he asks as he opens the drawer and counts out four forks. I cringe. Mateo's presence bothers me, and the time he's spending with Coop isn't the only reason. But I can't seem to put my finger on the other reason, and it makes me even more frustrated every time he shows up or Cooper brings him up because, let's face it, he's obsessed with him.
"He had physical therapy today, so he's in the shower. He'll eat when he's done, and the dude can eat, so make sure you get what you want before he does."
"What's his deal, anyway?" I ask and immediately regret it. Why do I want to know? I shouldn't care, but if he's going to be Coop's new best friend, I suppose I should. "Why isn't he recovering at home? In…Boston?"
"Baltimore," Addie corrects before sucking in a breath and letting it out slow. "Mom convinced him to recover here. I think she thought we'd be able to help him get around and shit because he doesn't have anybody else, and don't get me wrong, like don't misconstrue what I'm saying. He has friends, but he's never had anyone serious. Nobody at home to take care of him, and I get he's a grown-ass man, but recovering from surgery isn't fun. I imagine it's really lonely. And he wasn't supposed to be here at home, remember? He was supposed to be in a rental."
A door creaks down the hall, and moments later the man in question joins us. He's fresh out of the shower, shorts slung low on his hips. He's not wearing a shirt, and I'm shocked to see the intricate tattoo that climbs up his back continues over his shoulder to his pec. It's not what I was expecting. I knew he had tattoos, several if we're counting the butterfly, but I don't think I was expecting him to be covered in art. He flexes a pec and I liftmy gaze to his face where he's flashing me a crooked smile with that damn crooked tooth.
